Who Knew?

Apparently I’ve been shopping in the wrong racial demographic for all these years.

A few weeks ago, Teddi took me shopping at a store called “Ashley Stewart” in Cheltenham. I’d never heard of it or gone in before and was my usual anti-shopping, grouchy, skeptical self as we walked through the front door.

As I glanced around I saw a number of things I thought were cute, but didn’t bother sifting through the racks because the store didn’t say “plus sized” anywhere, so I mentally assumed it was a store for ‘normal’ people, and not for me.

As I followed Teddi morosely through the racks I must have admired something or other because she picked it up and shoved it into my arms, directing me toward the fitting room.

To my utter shock, it fit. I tried on more, it all fit. Everything fit, nothing was insanely priced, everything was decently made, and everything was cute. A lot of it was even sexy. And if shopping at Lane Bryant and Fashion Bug Plus for most of my life has taught me anything – it’s that sexy clothes are a BIG NO NO for overweight women.

Not so here.

What strange, loving wonderland had I blundered into? What was this place?

Apparently the key was that Ashley Stewart is a clothing store for black women.

Apparently designers for black women think its perfectly okay to celebrate the generous curves of a woman’s body and let them be sexy instead of punishing them with cheap, overpriced, poorly designed clothes in horrendous mumu-type fabrics.

Holy crap… who knew this was even possible?

Scary Doll Attack

As of late this blog has been a lot more about whatever I happen to be thinking about today and a lot less about trying to loose weight. This is in all likelihood due to the fact that my attempts to loose weight recently have been entirely fruitless. No there’s nothing wrong with me metabolically, I’ve just been eating too much / moving too little.

At any rate, in the Christmas spirit of psychologically damaging toys, here’s something that set off my weird stuff-o-meter first thing this morning:

No, I couldn’t un-see the horror and now neither can you. Dolls kind of scare me. The closer they are to human looking the more they kind of scare me. On an artistic level I can truly appreciate the amount of work and love that went into making these things, but as a human being I’m slightly mentally scarred now.

They’re called “Puppenjungs” – which translates from German into “Doll Boys”. They’re sort of big too for dolls, about 24 inches tall, just big enough to wield a knife and slaughter you in your sleep while blinking sweetly at you with those overlarge Elfquest-Elf eyes of theirs.

They’re modeled to look like the Kaulitz twins, and part of the problem may be that the likeness is really pretty good. My first thought upon seeing them was: “dear God, I hope the real people they’re made to look like are not aware that they exist.”

Then I blundered over this:

Autographed picture. Which means that yes, they are in fact aware that somebody out there created and is toting their voodoo doll selves about the countryside. To make matters worse the one on the right appears to be reaching for the viewer, as though to collect your immortal soul…

How anyone can sleep at night knowing they’ve got evil doll doppelgangers is anybody’s guess. Yikes.

30th Anniversary

Today is the 30th anniversary of John Lennon’s murder, I realized this when our radio alarm clock went off this morning and the newscasters on KYW were talking about it.

Many know (and are horrified) by the fact that I’m no fan of Beatles songs, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know of and respect the legacy that they’ve left behind and understand their significant place in the history of music.

Ted was shocked that so much time had gone by since then so quickly. To me it explained why I had no memory of Lennon being killed, I was only six at the time.

It got me to thinking about the nature of obsession. Presumably Lennon was killed by a fan, so was the Latin singer Selena (by the president of her own fan club if I’m not mistaken).

In the case of a political assassination I can almost wrap my head around the motive; perhaps a person doesn’t agree with the beliefs of their target and believes they’re helping the world by ridding it of them.

But why do people kill what they presumably love?

And John Lennon of all people? The man was a pacifist who dreamed beautiful dreams about a peaceful world. I just don’t understand.

But then, maybe that’s a good thing.

Upside

The upside of a particularly nasty stomach virus is that you loose weight.

Bleh.

Punching Bag

Ever have a month where you feel like the world is trying to make you its bitch?

Or more accurately, I think God it trying to tell me something and I need to figure out what that is exactly. It feels like I can’t get through a week anymore without somebody getting in my face in an aggressive (and sometimes completely inexplicable) fashion.

Example the First:

About a month ago I’m having brunch with my son and husband and realized my son didn’t have a set of utensils, so I slipped out of the booth and grabbed him a set off of a nearby table – when I sat back down, the back of the booth moved slightly, jostling the Crazy Woman sitting in the booth behind me.

Said Crazy Woman found this a perfectly acceptable justification to turn and holler at me. Since I did bump her, I apologized and then turned away to return to my meal. However, she felt that wasn’t quite enough and persisted, resulting in the following conversation:

Crazy Woman: “Don’t be bumpin’ me ‘cuz I’m a bitch!”
Me (annoyed now): “Maam, I said I was sorry.”
Crazy Woman: “Are you?!”
Me: “Yes, I really am and I hope you have a lovely day.” Upon which I turned my back on her for a second time.

She complained her way loudly all the way out the door, but thankfully she left and I was able to enjoy brunch in peace with my family.

Example the Second:

Two weekends ago I ran a LARP (Live Action Roleplaying Game) at a gaming convention in Jersey. Since I had brought 24 pre generated characters and had 23 of them cast and in play – I’d call it a smashing success.

However at one point I had a player ask me for something unreasonable and had to tell him no. Gamers can be emotional and a bit high strung, so he got upset, threw something against the nearest wall and informed me he hadn’t wanted to play my game anyway but “they” wouldn’t let him get out of it.

Since there were only two GM’s; myself and another person, and this was the first I was hearing about his mysterious desire to not be involved which seemed to have developed the exact moment he didn’t get his way – I inquired as to who his mysterious “they” were exactly. He pointed to my co-GM as the coercer, and I probably gave him a skeptical look since she’s not the type to force involvement from a reluctant player (both of us would far prefer players who actually WANT to be there), at which point he stormed off.

Not really an unusual thing since, as I mentioned before, gamers can be high strung – but the experience still left me stressed and irritated when I needed to be focused.

Example the Third:

Hands down the most mystifying.

Yesterday I went with some friends to acquire ice cream; and after myself, my husband, son, and friend (who is currently recovering from an injury) went inside the ice cream shop – two other friends remained in their car to finish up a phone call.

As I approached the counter my injured friend inquired as to their delay, and I explained that they were finishing up a phone call with a friend they’d had a problem with at the con last weekend (again, Gamers = high strung). We ordered our ice cream and I moved away toward the window to wave playfully at my two friends in their car outside.

A moment later, I had a strange, slightly scary looking, sixty-something year old man at my elbow.

Crazy Man: “Excuse me, I’d appreciate if you didn’t talk like that about my son-in-law where I can hear you.”
Me (utterly confused): “Um, I don’t know you.”
Crazy Man: “That young man you were just talking about over there, he’s my son-in-law and I don’t want you talking that way about him where I can hear you.”
Me: (very blankly) “(Insert name here) is your son in law?”
Crazy Man: “No… (insert different name here) is my son in law. If I’m mistaken then I’m sorry.”

It took me awhile to puzzle out what happened, long after the incident was over – but finally I think I’ve got it figured out. When I walked in, the Crazy Man’s daughter must have recognized me from seeing me once at a mutual friend’s party. Her husband (a nice enough guy that I don’t know well) was in fact at the Convention last weekend. For some (still completely mystifying to me) reason, instead of saying hello to me when she recognized me, she eavesdropped on my conversation and decided completely at random that the person I was mentioning when I said my other two friends were straightening out an issue with someone who’d been at the Con MUST be her husband, and sicked her daddy on me to put me in my place for speaking so ill of him in public.

Sound crazy? Yeah, believe me it felt pretty crazy too.

I was also really angry because Crazy Vengeful Daddy waited patiently until I’d stepped away from my three tall, male companions to come over and confront me well out of their earshot. What a brave guy.

On top of that, the guy’s a CHURCH PASTOR (as I later found out). So theoretically he, his wife and daughter are all supposedly my fellow brothers and sister’s in Christ. And this leader of the church, instead of taking the “blessed are the peacemakers” route decided it was perfectly acceptable to frighten, confuse and confront a young woman who was a total stranger to him after she’d had the audacity to say: “so and so are working out a problem with someone they had an issue with.”

Even if I HAD been talking about his son in law (which I hadn’t been) I didn’t actually say anything bad, certainly nothing that warranted that kind of reaction.

So… at this point I feel like I can’t get through a weekend anymore without crazy people getting up in my grill. So what is God trying to tell me?

My first thought was that I need to choose how I’m spending my time more wisely; instead of going to a convention I could have spent last weekend helping people who need it for example. But in the other two instances; I was having brunch and bonding with my family and visiting an injured friend who is like a brother to me, I can’t see God having an issue with either of those activities.

Do I just need to learn to stand up for myself? That was one of the things that left me feeling icky, used and angry afterward; I was actually pretty nice to all three of my aggressors when what I wanted was to punch them all in the face. Afterward I felt used and beaten, like people’s punching bag. But would God want me to learn to go with animal instinct and start socking crazy people in the face? Somehow I doubt it.

The best answer I was able to come up with came from my son; who pointed out “maybe it’s not about you. Maybe God is using you to teach something to others.” Like in the case of the Pastor, perhaps the man needed a lesson in humility and how to control his own misdirected anger. Perhaps after he’d realized his mistake, he felt ashamed. He SHOULD feel ashamed in my opinion.

I still don’t know, but obviously it’s weighing on me pretty badly so I had to get these words out of my head and onto the page. Nobody wants to feel like a scapegoat for other people’s anger with their own lives or like a free punching bag – and right now that’s exactly what I feel like.

Defeated

I stopped weighing myself a few months ago, but I know the number is up. I can feel it in my joints, in the way my clothes fit, in the horrifyingly round face and figure looking back out at me from recent pictures, and in my general state of extreme self-dislike.

Am I just not able to do this? Am I like a drug addict who just can’t beat it?

I’m so tired of fighting, and the road feels so very long and hard, I just want to curl up somewhere quiet and dark and stay there.

Stuffed Acorn Squash

One of my guest bloggers (Jo) sent me this recipe for Autumnal Stuffed Acorn Squash this morning. I haven't tried it out (yet) but intend to within the next few weeks!

**********2 Acorn Squash

Smidge of olive oil

1 C. Trader Joe’s Harvest Grains Blend

1 C. Veggie broth

1/4 C. Water

1 tsp. Butter

1 C. Onion, diced

1 C. Mushrooms, chopped

1 T. Olive oil

2 Cloves garlic, chopped

1/4 C. Walnuts, chopped

1/4 C. Dried Cranberries (I used the orange essence kind)

1/4 tsp. Salt

1/4 tsp. Cinnamon

Pinch of ground Ginger

Pinch of ground Cloves

Preheat oven to 375 deg. F. Halve each acorn squash and remove the innards. I brushed each half with olive oil (the oil is probably unnecessary) and placed face down in a pan. Bake for 30 minutes.

While the acorn squash is baking, start the stuffing.

Bring 1 C. broth and 1/4 C. water to boiling. [A note about the broth: I used a blend of broth and water only because I had 1-cup pouches of organic veggie broth in my pantry. I didn’t want to open a second pouch only to used a portion of it.] Add butter and grain blend. Bring back to boiling, turn down heat, cover and simmer for 10 minutes or so until cooked.

In a separate pan, sauté garlic and onion in olive oil, adding mushrooms after onion has started turning translucent.

Once grains and onions and mushrooms are cooked, mix them together in a large bowl with all other ingredients.

Back to the acorn squash: after baking for 30 minutes, remove from oven. Flip each half but leave in the pan. Scrape out a little bit of squash from each half. This is mostly to make a little more room in each half, but also adds a little squash flavor to the stuffing. Mix the removed squash into the stuffing mixture. Fill each acorn squash half with stuffing; mound it up! Cover the now stuffed squash with aluminum foil, and put the pan back in the oven. Bake for an additional 30 minutes.

[I only cooked one acorn squash last night, so I have half the stuffing left over for lunches and such. It’s fab all on its own.]